Blessed indeed is the man who hears many
gentle voices call him father!
Lydia M. Child
When I was a little girl, my father had a time-honored tradition of tucking me into bed. Following my bedtime story, he would give me a nose kiss, **tickle** my stomach and whisper the most wonderful words into my ear. "Michelle, of all the little girls in the whole wide world . . ." he would pause.
" Yes, Daddy?"
" How did your mommy and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
Before he had time to finish, I would say, "You got me!" And then he would continue, "The best little girl in the whole wide world, and we got you."
" You got me!" I would scream and clap.
" Yes, you, Michelle, and we're so lucky." He would end with a bear hug and another kiss to my forehead.
Years passed and my father never missed a night, even when I thought he should have. After my basketball team was defeated, he came into my room.
" Michelle, of all the basketball players in the whole wide world," he paused.
" Yes, Daddy?" I stared at the floor.
" How did your mom and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
" You didn't."
" Of course we did, Michelle. We have you."
" But, Dad . . ."
" Yes, you, Michelle, and we're so lucky," he cheered, as he gave me a high five followed by a bear hug and a kiss to my forehead. I thought becoming a teenager would end the ritual, but it didn't.
" Michelle, of all the teenagers in the whole wide world . . ." he would pause.
" Dad, I'm too old for this," I would sigh.
" How did your mother and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
" C'mon, Dad," I **grunted**.
" We have you, Michelle, and we're so lucky." Then the embarrassing hug and kiss.
Following college, I became engaged. My father never missed a night to call or leave a message reminding me how special I was to him. I even wondered if he would continue calling after I got married, but he didn't. The daily calls I had taken for granted all my life ended the day he died from cancer, only weeks before my wedding.
I deeply missed sharing the day with my father.
**Standing** behind the white church doors with my arm in my brother's, I waited for the wedding march to begin. Before we began our descent down the **aisle**, my brother reached inside his pocket and handed me an ivory napkin **embroidered** with pink ribbon. **Inscribed** were the words:
Of all the precious wives in the whole wide world, how did Mark get so lucky to marry the best one? He married you, Michelle, and he is so lucky! I am so proud of you, my little girl.
Love,
Dad
Without a doubt, it was the best wedding gift I received. One I would never forget. My father showered me with his gifts every day of his life. How did I get so lucky?